


Be My Emissary (why won't you just ask)

by syriala



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Pack Building, Post-Nogitsune, Steter Secret Santa 2018, Touch-Starved Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 23:46:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17069495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syriala/pseuds/syriala
Summary: It had taken Peter a bit longer to understand that it was better if he didn’t touch Stiles and Stiles had never dodged anyone as hard as Peter. He didn’t want to hurt him, under no circumstances ever, and so he had almost leapt away a few times when Peter had suddenly shown up and reached out for him.Stiles refused to think about the brief look of hurt on Peter’s face every time that happened, because it was for his own good, Peter had to know that.So really, Stiles shouldn’t be surprised that Peter wanted someone else as an emissary, even though Stiles was right there, and willing to join his pack, and he did have the necessary magical power, even if his control lacked a bit. Or a lot.





	Be My Emissary (why won't you just ask)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hisaribi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hisaribi/gifts).



> This is my gift for hisaribi. They wanted alpha!Peter and emissary!Stiles with some post-nogitsune flavor and I really hope you like this. I couldn't fit in the asexual!Stiles anywhere though, and I'm sorry about that. I hope you enjoy this anyway and Happy Holidays!!

Even after the nogitsune was dealt with, it continued to fuck with Stiles life. He would laugh about the irony of that, if he didn’t feel so much like crying at all times nowadays.

Ever since the nogitsune left him, his powers were out of whack. It had properly awoken the spark in Stiles, had shown him just how much untapped potential lay within him, but it hadn’t given Stiles the proper tools to control it.

And now, every time someone tried to touch Stiles, they got shocked.

It wasn’t much for humans, just a little jolt of electricity, not much more than a static burst, but it still caused everyone to jerk back in surprise and made them wary in reaching out again.

It was worse for supernaturals.

The first time Scott had touched him after the nogitsune had been gone, he had gotten shocked so badly, he had been writhing on the floor for a few seconds. Stiles hadn’t tried again afterwards.

He was still shocking humans, so there was no reason to doubt that he would still be shocking supernaturals either.

So Stiles kept to himself. He had learned to control his limbs, so they wouldn’t go flying everywhere, so that the chance of him hitting someone on accident was almost nonexistent.

He had learned to recognize it when people wanted to reach out for him, had learned to neatly dodge the attempt, to step back or twist away before the other person could make contact, and by now the pack knew better than to touch him.

It was fine. Totally not a problem at all. Stiles wasn’t missing his dad’s rough hugs, or the hand to the back of his neck. He wasn’t missing the easy way Scott used to crowd into his space, like there was no difference between Stiles’ space and Scott’s. Stiles didn’t miss being shoved around or shouldered out of the way by Derek, and he didn’t miss the way Lydia pressed close when they were researching something together.

No, he didn’t miss any of these things, and it was totally fine.

When Peter came back from wherever he had vanished to after getting the nogitsune out of Stiles, eyes red and stance proud, Stiles absolutely did not miss the easy way with which Peter had scent marked him before the whole mess had started.

It had always been a light hand on his shoulder, or briefly cupping his neck; spreading his scent around in a way Derek had never done. Stiles didn’t miss it at all. It was fine.

“I need an emissary,” Peter told him one evening when they were pouring over ancient texts together, trying to figure out what was killing people in the preserve now.

Stiles had expected that, every good pack needed an emissary after all, and Peter had made it more than clear by now that this time around he would be a good alpha. But still, it hurt, hearing Peter say that, because clearly, he didn’t mean Stiles.

“Yes, you do,” Stiles said, noncommittally, and absolutely refused to look up at Peter, even though he could feel his eyes on him.

It had taken Peter a bit longer to understand that it was better if he didn’t touch Stiles and Stiles had never dodged anyone as hard as Peter. He didn’t want to hurt him, under no circumstances ever, and so he had almost leapt away a few times when Peter had suddenly shown up and reached out for him.

Stiles refused to think about the brief look of hurt on Peter’s face every time that happened, because it was for his own good, Peter had to know that.

So really, Stiles shouldn’t be surprised that Peter wanted someone else as an emissary, even though Stiles was right there, and willing to join his pack, and he did have the necessary magical power, even if his control lacked a bit. Or a lot.

“Will you help me find one?” Peter asked him hesitantly, like he knew that this was a sore spot for Stiles, who clenched his jaw, hard, before nodding once.

“Sure,” he pressed out and then promptly got up and walked into the kitchen.

He knew his way around Peter’s apartment blind by now, and his heart gave a painful thud when Stiles realized that he would probably have to give his key to the place back, once Peter had established his pack and didn’t need Stiles around anymore.

“I guess you’ll need some betas, too, right? Three, if I remember correctly?”

At that Peter frowned at him.

“You know that you have a place in this pack, right?” Peter asked him, and Stiles shrugged without really answering Peter.

“Do you not want to be my beta?” Peter wanted to know and Stiles bit down hard on the laugh that threatened to come out.

He didn’t want to be Peter’s _beta_. He wanted to be his emissary, his right hand, his partner, his everything. But sure, being Peter’s beta would be fine, too, Stiles guessed.

“No, yeah, I can be your beta, no problem, not sure how that works when I’m not, you know, but alright, no worries,” Stiles rambled, and Peter frowned thoughtfully at him.

“Stiles,” he started, but Stiles had enough of this, had enough of things dangling in his face that he could never have; had enough of Peter choosing someone else as his emissary when Stiles himself _was right there_ , and so he fled the apartment.  

Of course he came back. Stiles was nothing if not loyal and he had promised to help Peter find an emissary. No matter how much he didn’t want to be doing that.

“Who do you have in mind?” Stiles asked as he walked into the living-room and Peter looked down on a stack of files.

Stiles stared at it for a few seconds, before he realized that of course Peter had already looked into possible candidates.

“Sure, awesome, let’s get started,” Stiles muttered, not meeting Peter’s eyes and he sat down and pulled the first file closer to him.

Stiles found a reason to dismiss all the possible candidates.

He wasn’t doing it on purpose, he promised, but none of them were good enough for Peter and his pack. It had nothing to do with the fact that Stiles was petty, and angry, and still hurt that Peter hadn’t asked him. That wasn’t the reason.

It was just that none of the possible emissaries were him.

“She’s too old,” Stiles immediately said when he opened the last file.

“Stiles, she’s barely in her forties,” Peter said with a sigh and rubbed his temples.

“Yeah, like I said, too old,” Stiles snapped back, and he knew that he was behaving irrationally, but he couldn’t stop.

It hurt, knowing that Peter didn’t even consider him for this position; it hurt knowing that Peter didn’t trust him enough to keep his pack safe, and Stiles would need a few more days to get over that. Or maybe years. Years sounded good.

“What the hell is going on with you?” Peter suddenly snapped at Stiles and snatched the file out of his hands. “Your reasons are all flimsy excuses, and I don’t understand. I thought you wanted to help. I thought you wanted this pack to be a good one,” Peter said, and he had the audacity to sound hurt.

“Oh fuck you,” Stiles snarled back at him, and then promptly jerked back when Peter reached out for his arm.

“What is your problem?” Peter asked, as he clenched his hand.

“What is _my_ problem? What is _your_ problem?” Stiles almost yelled back. “You don’t even think to ask me if I want to be your emissary, but you have the audacity to make me chose someone for you? Fuck you, Peter.”

“You want to be my emissary,” Peter said, and he sounded a little bit dazed at that revelation.

“Of course I want to be your emissary,” Stiles said. “And you didn’t even think to ask me. Why won’t you just ask _me_?” Stiles wanted to know, but of course he knew why.

Peter didn’t trust him enough to be that for his pack. Peter didn’t care enough about him to give him such an important role. Peter didn’t want Stiles to have that much influence on his pack. There were a bunch of reasons to choose from, after all.

“Because you can’t be,” Peter said with a sigh. “Not with how you’re—” he gestured at Stiles who couldn’t help the bitter laugh that escaped him.

“Of course,” he whispered, because indicating everything of Stiles at once was the perfect reason.

Stiles probably wouldn’t want to be his own emissary either.

“Not ‘of course’, Stiles,” Peter said, and he sounded so damn tired. “Being an emissary is a very physical job, and I don’t just mean the act of being an emissary,” Peter explained. “To be properly integrated into the pack you’d have to be in almost constant touch with everyone. You’d have to sleep in my bed for at least the first month, before any betas would even recognize you as my emissary. And then you’d still have to touch any member of the pack at least once a day, to establish a strong bond.”

“Deaton isn’t sleeping in Scott’s bed,” Stiles gave back dumbfounded and Peter scoffed.

“And he barely acts as his emissary at all. The bonds aren’t there.”

Stiles just stared at Peter, for once in his life silent and waiting Peter out, who realized with a sigh what Stiles was doing.

“Stiles, I wanted you to be my emissary from the moment I smelled the spark on you in that parking garage,” Peter said. “But you don’t want to be touched anymore, and I’m not going to force you into a position where touch is vital. I don’t want any of these emissaries, but I can’t have the one I want, so I have to make do.”

“I want to be touched,” Stiles blurted out and Peter raised an eyebrow at him in question. “I want to be touched,” Stiles reiterated and looked down at his hands. “But whenever someone touches me, I hurt them.”

“What the nogitsune did was not your fault,” Peter immediately said, and Stiles realized with a start that Peter didn’t know about his little problem, because he had left almost as soon as it was clear that Stiles would survive. He hadn’t been there to see Scott on the floor the first time he had touched Stiles afterwards.

“It’s not that,” Stiles lowly said. “I can’t touch anyone, because my powers are all out of whack and whenever I come into contact with anyone, there’s this jolt of electricity. It’s not so bad for humans, but Scott convulsed for nearly ten seconds when I touched him once.”

“What are you saying?” Peter asked, sounding alert and leaning forward, eyes fixed on Stiles. “Are you telling me that you can be my emissary?”

Stiles heart fell when he realized that this didn’t change anything. Peter might want him for that position, and god, did Stiles want it, but he couldn’t do it.

“I can’t,” Stiles whispered and got up. “I shouldn’t have brought it up, I’m sorry,” he almost stumbled over his words, he was in such a rush to get out, get away, because nothing was different.

Stiles still couldn’t be anything for Peter, couldn’t even give him a hug or brush their shoulders together, and Stiles couldn’t be here a second longer.

“You need an anchor,” Peter called after him, clearly unwilling to allow Stiles to simply leave, to maybe never come back and Stiles stopped in the doorway.

“I’m not a werewolf,” he muttered, certain that Peter would hear him anyway.

“No, you’re not,” Peter said, and he sounded much closer now. “But the nogitsune freed your magic and left you without an anchor to control it,” he said, and Stiles shuddered when he felt Peter’s breath at the back of his neck.

“How do I choose an anchor?” Stiles asked, because he was pretty sure just being in love with Peter wasn’t working for him.

“You choose an alpha,” Peter whispered, and Stiles head instinctively dropped to the side.

He had always known that Scott wasn’t his alpha, could never be, not with the history behind them, and all the hurt feelings Stiles still carried around, and he felt nothing but relief now, knowing that Peter wanted him in his pack.

Peter didn’t waste any time, he leaned forward and sank his teeth into Stiles’ vulnerable neck. Stiles trusted him enough not to worry if Peter would change him, and when Peter bit down a bit harder, Stiles knees went weak and he leaned back against Peter’s chest, who immediately hugged him close.

The fact that he wasn’t shocking Peter right now, even though they were touching, was a thought at the back of Stiles’ mind, because he was too preoccupied being overwhelmed by the pack bond that suddenly flared up in his head.

It had always been there, Stiles recognized it now, but it was stronger now, overwhelming in the best kind of way, and Stiles made a keening sound when it fully took root.

“You’re mine now,” Peter said once he pulled back. “And you’re the most delicious thing I have ever tasted.”

Stiles jerked away from Peter at that, the thought to never let anyone touch him again already too ingrained and it sprung to the forefront again now. But Peter didn’t let go of him, kept him close and pressed to his body, and Stiles waited with bated breath for Peter to collapse.

“You’re not going to hurt me,” Peter muttered as he dragged his cheek up Stiles’ neck, as if he still needed to scent mark him.

“I hurt everyone so far,” Stiles gave back, afraid to even more in fear that that might spark the usual reaction.

“But I’m your alpha and you’re mine. And your power is mine, too. Mine to harness, mine to use, mine to take in.”

“What did you do?” Stiles breathlessly asked and turned around in Peter’s arms, facing him.

His heart sped up when Peter met his gaze with blood-red eyes, but Stiles wasn’t worried, not even for a second.

“You have so much magic, it’s flowing out of you. That’s what’s shocking people. They don’t know how to take it in, and it has to go somewhere. I just accepted it. Like I accept all of you.”

“I love you,” Stiles blurted out, couldn’t help himself, but he didn’t have time to worry about anything, because Peter was reeling him in for a kiss the second the words left his mouth.

“I love you, too, in case that was unclear,” Peter whispered against his lips and Stiles threw his arms around him, hiding his face in Peter’s neck.

It had been so long, so damn long, since anyone had touched him, and Stiles felt overwhelmed in the best possible way.

“Can I be your emissary now?” Stiles asked, not letting go of Peter.

“Sweetheart, first of all, you’re going to be my mate. If you want the emissary position you can have it, but you’re going to stay in my bed either way.”

Stiles chuckled at that, absolutely delighted by that, because he couldn’t imagine anything better than staying close to Peter.


End file.
